Tag: health

Day one, one day #SOLC25 8/31

The thing about the March Slice of Life Challenge is that it always happens in March. Another thing that always happens in March – at least if you’re a teacher in Ontario – is March Break. Every year I tell myself that this is great because I will be able to write SO MUCH during March Break. I will go on vacation and everything will be relaxing and wonderful. I really should know better. I’ve been doing this long enough that I should be realistic about day one of March Break. And one day I will be. But not today.

On the first day of break, physics seems out of whack. Gravity works overtime; the air thickens and acceleration is slowed; every action requires more force to begin and results in smaller than expected opposite reactions.

Today, as in years past, I am sitting on the couch, mindlessly playing games – Wordle, Sudoku, Connections, Strands, Duolingo, even my Castles of Burgundy app – while telling myself repeatedly that I should get up, I should pack, I should write, I should…

Here, I’ll take a page from Sherri and make a chart:

What I’m doingWhat I think I should be doing
Sleeping inGetting up early
Having a second pot of teaEmptying the dishwasher
Playing gamesWriting
DuolingoCommenting on other posts
Sitting on the couchLaundry, packing
Talking to my motherTalking to my mother

This is why it’s early afternoon, and I’m only starting my day – even though I’ve been up for hours. This is why even though I have lots of writing ideas, I don’t know what to write. This is why I wish that physics allowed for teleporters that would function exclusively to take tired teachers to vacation destinations.

Listen, I promise that one day I’ll write more. I will be witty! I will be wise! Today, however, I will accept the reality that today is not one day, it’s just day one.

A good ache #SOL24 35/31

I only joined the gym because she kept badgering me, and I finally realized that she was (probably subconsciously) finding a way to make sure she had friends and plans during what was almost certainly going to be a difficult year. I don’t like gyms. I’m uncoordinated and I hate classes. Still, for her, I joined the damn gym.

I went with her a few times during my two-week free trial, but I didn’t go even once for the first few weeks after I officially joined – mostly because she wasn’t going because her daughter was in hospice. Then, the very evening Eve died, she texted and asked me to go with her to a class the next day. What could I say? This is why I joined. So I said yes.

The gym isn’t fancy or big. They don’t have weight machines or elliptical machines or anything like that; just real weights, some rowing machines, and some bicycles. I find it completely intimidating. The workout is written on a white board, and it’s generally something I have no idea how to do – dead lifts and overhead presses, for example. There’s a lot of AMRAPs and work to 90% capacity. It took me several sessions to figure out that AMRAP means “as many rounds as possible.”

It’s been eight weeks now, and we’ve mostly gone twice every week. No one gets too worried when she cries, and the workouts are *hard*. Hard is good: I have to focus entirely on my body, to be fully present and aware. There’s not much space for thinking about Eve or anything else. And I’m getting stronger. Tonight, I did 25 overhead presses plus way too many wall balls and 50 hanging knee lifts. Eight weeks ago, that would have been impossible for me.

The gym owner told us that “exercise has always been there” for her when life has been tough. I joked that junk food and the television have always been there for me. But eight weeks in, I’m starting to get it. I’m stronger and my muscles are getting (a very little, middle-aged) definition. I know I still talk too much about Eve’s death and it makes people uncomfortable, but I’m getting better. Still, tonight, when someone asked what had motivated me to join the gym, I worried out loud about having started something good for me because of something so sad. “I wouldn’t worry,” she reassured me, “there are worse ways to deal with grief.” I nodded and did another round of overhead presses with more weight than I’ve used before. I’ll ache tomorrow – in a good way.

An unwelcome visitor #SOL24 1/31

I knew for sure that I had an unwelcome visitor on Saturday. I’d heard the quiet knocking every morning for days, but tried to pretend it wasn’t coming: I went to bed early, but soon sleep started to elude me; I woke daily with a tickle in the back of my throat. By Saturday there was no ignoring the visitor: the virus had arrived.

“I think I’m sick,” I croaked at my spouse, as if my voice and the circles under my bleary eyes didn’t make this obvious.

“I think you are,” he replied, and set me on the couch to recuperate.

We’ve had viruses visit before, of course. Mostly we greet them with tea and honey; we entertain them with ridiculous series on Netflix or long cuddles with good books; always, we like to offer them plenty of rest. This satisfies most viruses. After a day or two, they thank us politely and move on, sometimes leaving behind a bit of a mess, but nothing that we can’t handle if we’re cautious.

This virus though, the one that came on Saturday, this one has overstayed its welcome. I tried to coddle it over the weekend, hoping that it would be willing to move on by Monday morning, but no. Instead, the virus – which had initially taken up residence in my throat – decided that it was too confined and expanded into my lungs and my sinuses. There, it stretched out. “Ah… just what I needed: more space.” It took a particular liking to my lungs and hung out there, making it hard for me to breathe.

So, I took the virus to the doctor’s office where we tried to take a picture of it, but it was shy and hid from the x-ray. “Well,” said the doctor, “at least it’s not Pneumonia. She always overstays her welcome – a real hanger-on, that one.” Pneumonia has visited both me and my spouse, so I knew exactly what the doctor meant. She is a terrible guest. “Still,” the doctor continued, “there are some truly ill-mannered viruses going around right now. This one may stay for days.”

I nodded my head, but I didn’t believe her. I know how to deal with a virus, and I don’t get sick very often. I wheezed my way home and curled up on my couch. I played puzzle games with my virus and watched lots of bad TV. We downloaded a mindless game app and played for hours. We drank unending pots of tea with honey. We knit, pet the dog and took naps. Still, the virus stayed. It fiddled with the thermostat, so I tried to help it get comfortable with some ibuprofen. Then, ungrateful, it spent Monday evening painting my throat bright red. “Much better,” it squealed. After that, it yelled at me whenever I swallowed, “You’re ruining the paint job!”

Every afternoon, I checked in with my virus. “Maybe you could leave tomorrow?” I asked. The virus laughed, and watched me write increasingly tearful emails to the vice principal, telling her that I needed to be out yet again. Last night, as I created the fifth day of lesson plans, the virus was not even remotely helpful. In fact, it laughed even harder and said, “I *might* leave tomorrow, but I’m just not sure yet. Maybe you should go in just to see what I do.” I’d gotten wise to it, though. I knew that it just wanted to stay longer, so I called in sick and sent the (now pretty pathetic) lesson plans.

Today is the seventh day of the virus’s visit. I’ve told it that my spouse and I don’t typically welcome guests for more than a week without consulting with one another, so it is reluctantly packing up. The paint job it had so delighted in has largely faded, and it’s moved into a smaller space, mostly in my throat. I’ve offered it more tea and sleep, but I think it’s starting to crave something different, hopefully something it can’t find in this house. By Monday, this unwelcome visitor should be gone, and I should be back to work. Fingers crossed.

Sick Days

Second semester started with days of absent students. Some didn’t understand that the semester began in the middle of the week. Some thought the first few days were “kind of useless” and decided to stay home. Two were out of the country indefinitely. Lots of students were changing their timetables. Of course, most students were there, so I focused on the ones in the classroom, tried to make clear assignments for those who were out, and continued along.

By the end of the first full week, classes were well underway, but students seemed to be coming and going at an unusual rate. I chalked it up to, well, I don’t know what – but weird things happen in small environments, and schools are no exception. So, a lot of students were missing class, such is life, and talk at the teachers’ table at lunchtime suggested that this was true in many classes. Worse, some kids were getting sick and then were gone for days – days! None of the normal “sick for a day and then back” that usually happens. We couldn’t figure it out.

Then, last week, my youngest got sick. He doesn’t love school, so I often look askance at any request to stay home, but on Tuesday, he was visibly unwell, so we let him stay home – and there he stayed for three full days. Three days! He’s 13! 13-year-olds bounce back ridiculously quickly; they don’t stay home for days because of a nondescript cold. (It wasn’t covid.) But here we were. By the time Friday rolled around, he’d missed the annual ice skating outing, pizza day, and more. He was ready to go back.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I started feeling sick on Saturday. I was gentle with myself, but I figured it was just a cold. Just a cold… and here I am, four days later, still at home. I am sick. It’s not Covid, but I was sick enough to check with the doctor on Monday. They shook their head and said, “there are some nasty viruses going around.” Indeed. Them they x-rayed my chest to see if I had pneumonia – I don’t. I’m just sick. Last night I slept 13 hours. I’ve spent most of the last three days sitting on the couch. My throat is a hot mess. I’m sick.

When I check class attendance, I see that the students are still sick, too. To date, only 6 of my 26 grade 9 students have perfect attendance; only 4 of the 21 grade 12s. No wonder I’ve been spending so much of my afternoon literacy block trying to simply find the students I need to work with. Whew.

I’m out again tomorrow – and I really hate being away from school. If I’m lucky, I’ll be better by Thursday. At least I’ve solved the mystery of all the missing students – they’re sick!